Metal Gear: Project Archon
by VirtuaL HiT MaN
Summary: Alternate Universe: Two years after the Shadow Moses incident, Snake is drawn out of hiding to stop old enemies but soon stumbles upon something much worse and much much bigger...
1. Foreword

**Metal Gear: Project Archon **

By Virtual HiT MaN  
hitman@evilemail.com

**Foreword**

***

Metal Gear: Project Archon is a Metal Gear fan fiction based in an **AU** (alternate universe) intended as a sequel to Metal Gear Solid. All events that occur in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance between characters in this work of fiction and any persons living or dead are purely coincidental. 

Metal Gear, Solid Snake, Liquid Snake, Revolver Ocelot, Roy Campbell, Hal 'Otacon' Emmerich, and FOXHOUND are intellectual properties owned by Konami, created by (the almighty) Hideo Kojima.

All other characters are owned by the author.

All questions, comments, flames, and praises can be addressed to hitman@evilemail.com or included in the review section of this story.

This story is not for those with short attention spans.

Copyright 20XX  
Presented in Dolby Digital where available.  
Color by Technicolor.  
Soundtrack available on Geffen Records.  
No animals were harmed in the making of this story.

Special thanks to:  
zynthetic  
Plink  
Squid  
Mindless  
00  
moo shoe  
and Jo3

Extra special thanks to:  
Caffeine pills and Jolt Cola - They keep the world revolving.

And if you haven't, read this:  
_A prelude to destruction_: **Perfect Imperfection**  
(http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=903861)

Read on »  
  
***   



	2. Prologue

**Metal Gear: Project Archon **

By Virtual HiT MaN  
hitman@evilemail.com

**Prologue**

***

_Where am I?_ The battered and bruised man rolled away from the toppled jeep and into the cool melting snow. Slowly his memory flooded back to him as he stood up and rubbed his head, wincing in pain. The jeep steadily caught fire as the man limped away from the wreckage. His worn joints popped and creaked as he crept away. The man coughed, the taste of blood in his mouth, and looked over the horizon to see a snowmobile plowing across the frozen tundra. He could make out two figures atop the vehicle as it zoomed through the snowy plain. He rubbed his sore shoulder, realizing there was a bloody gash in it: a bullet hole. Clenching his gushing wound, he limped inside the long corridor that had shot the two jeeps out like bullets in its chamber. There was a medical station waiting for him somewhere at the end of the winding hallway between the garage exit and the hangar. He could patch himself up enough to survive the snowmobile ride to the nearest hospital, he hoped. 

Stumbling over the corpse of a genome soldier, he crawled into the medical supply station and reached for the painkiller syringes. _This isn't over._

Fanciful visions of wistful dreams and pensive remembrance danced through his head as he laid his battered body to rest on a hard green cot. A perfect plan. A hazy inferno. A shattered goal

_The fight_

_Left, right, kick._ They danced like moths in a lampshade atop the shattered weapon, exchanging blow after blow. He grasped onto the side of the fiery arena, but the blood and sweat on his palms let him slip down to oblivion. _White hot pain._ Crashing into a support structure and sliding down to the ground, he plotted hasty revenge yet again.

_The chase_

Delirious with rage and maniacal delight, he stuck his arm out of his jeep and blasted a few rounds of his rifle blindly at his target, who sped right alongside him. The bullets sprinkled the wall around the target as he fired a wave of his own deadly bullets. _Agony._ The bullet slammed into his shoulder. He dropped the rifle. Blinding speed. The vehicles sped forward on a collision course, flying out of the underground tunnel and smashing into the hard dirt and snow. 

_The end_

_Fox Die_ Last words as he clutched his heart and fell off the face of the earth. Spinning through paroxysms of terror, rage, and pain, and coming to rest back in the cold snow, face down beside a burning jeep, his enemy speeding away from the scene, believing the game to be finished. _It has only begun_

***

The year is 2006, one year after the incident on Shadow Moses Island. FOXHOUND has been officially disbanded by an executive order direct from the White House. Colonel Roy Campbell has received pension and has retired, honorably discharged from the Army for years of service to his country. Doctor Naomi Hunter has been sent to a federal prison for forging her identity on government documents and tampering with the FoxDie genetic virus. All other members of the FOXHOUND team have been transferred to other government offices or discharged. 

After the discovery that the official body count of terrorists did not match up to the number reported on site, Congress frantically passed a bill calling for the formation of FAST (FOXHOUND Apprehension Team), an elite group of mercenary bounty hunters, to track down the missing rebel FOXHOUND members. This team has been granted full amnesty for their actions in the pursuit of their targets. FAST has been given the directive to find and bring to justice four targets: Revolver Ocelot, Liquid Snake, Solid Snake, and the non-FOXHOUND hacker Hal 'Otacon' Emmerich. FAST operatives are authorized to eliminate these targets if the situation dictates it necessary. 

Solid Snake has gone into hiding from FAST and no Intel reports have fed information back relating to his whereabouts. After hacking into the Pentagon main database and stealing sensitive information, Hal Emmerich disappeared as well. No information has been released pertaining to the location of Revolver Ocelot. He is rumored to have fled to Russia with his accomplice Liquid Snake. Interpol has already begun their overseas investigations. 

The incident on Shadow Moses Island has been deemed a nuclear waste contamination scene. Choppers headed to the island for an official body cleanup and damage assessment have been disguised as radiation cleanup crews. No information regarding the existence of the nuclear equipped mobile assault vehicle Metal Gear Rex has leaked. After the destruction of Rex and the disappearance of the company's president, Kenneth Baker, ArmsTech has filed for bankruptcy and all employees have been let go. All documents containing sensitive information regarding the Metal Gear Rex project have been destroyed or stored in government facilities. All information relating to Metal Gear, FOXHOUND, the Genome soldiers, and Shadow Moses Island has been put under wraps, another of the government's silent little mistakes.

***  



	3. Chapter One - Part One

**Metal Gear: Project Archon**

By Virtual HiT MaN  
hitman@evilemail.com

**Chapter One:** Incipience

Part One

***

Year: 2007 - Two years after the events on Shadow Moses Island  
Location: Glacier, Colorado - Population: 103 - Three miles east of the Rockies

***

Lustrous flakes of pure white snow fell from the cloudy gray skies above the small mountain town of Glacier, Colorado. Hazy mists rolled down from the mountain tops to the west, smothering the town in a cloudy gray brume, obfuscating the pale white moon which hung high above the clouds in the midnight sky. Bitter air whipped against the window as the mayor stared out at the thunderheads for a moment. His eyes shifted to the doorway, where, in the distance, his secretary Anne waved goodbye, smiling and throwing the fluffy hood of her parka over her head. He smiled and waved back, and she turned, scooping up her bag, and pushed open the front door of the town hall. Harsh gusts of wind immediately began their assault on the young woman and she struggled to shut the door behind her. The glass and metal framed door was half frosted over, and the mayor could just make out her figure finally slamming the door shut, and wandering off into the night. His eyes rolled back down to his mahogany desk, and the paperwork atop it. He sighed, setting down his pen and sipping on his hot mug of coffee. A faint clicking noise sounded in the distance, but he paid it no mind. Probably just another twig smacking into the window. He rolled his cushy leather chair over from behind his desk and turned to face the idle television. The mayor pressed the power button on the remote control, and the local newswoman's voice began to come through, the picture slowly fading from black. 

"-we take you live to the scene of the grisly murder of Police Chief Darren Brown, in the downtown police station. Police have barred off the entrance and have released very few details." The mayor's eyes widened as he dropped the remote onto the carpeted floor. "Earlier tonight, an unknown assailant broke into the police station and brutally stabbed Chief Brown to death. He is succeeded by a wife and two children. No witnesses have contacted the police, and the mayor has not yet been reached for commenting." His eyes focused on the flickering television screen, the mayor's hand slowly reached for the phone which sat on the corner of his desk. "-pparently the chief had stayed behind to finish up on some paperwork. The lock on the window of his office had been picked open from the outside, and the criminal quietly sneaked in from behind. One officer, the first one to arrive on the scene, commented that it seemed like he had been tortured before being killed." An unmarked black eighteen-wheeler rumbled by behind the reporter, blowing snow onto her back. She and the cameraman immediately stepped further away from the side of the icy road. The trucks had been a local nuisance for a little over a week, every few hours a day one or two would roll through the quiet town and cause a ruckus. No one knew where the trucks were going, but everyone wanted them to leave. The mayor's hand set down upon the gentle curve of the phone, and he picked it up, bringing it to the side of his face, his eyes still fixated on the screen. His other hand now moved to dial a number, his eyes still unmoving. He began to dial, but heard no beeping noise. The mayor looked over at the phone and noticed the cord had been severed. Abruptly, he was knocked out of his large chair, and a shadowy figure lifted him up and slammed his back into the television, turning it off and cracking the screen as he did. The figure swept the lamp up from atop the desk and slammed it on the carpet. The mayor rubbed his head and blearily looked up at the figure. The mellow glow of the moon shone through the clouds and into the window, allowing him to see the slight glimmer of light reflecting off of the blade the figure now held. The dusky shape leapt forward, pouncing onto the mayor and knocking the television down in the other direction. The smashed lamp sat on the floor flickering on and off in violent fits, allowing the mayor to make out the outline of his assailant. His features were rigid and grim. Faint light bounced off of his bony cheeks and only a pale glint of his eyes stood out from the darkness of the rest of his face. The figure wiped a few thin strands of wiry hair off of his face, and pulled the small knife to the mayor's throat. He looked up in horror as the figure dangled the blade no more than an inch above his very throat. The figure spoke in a raspy, hissing tone, "My methods had little luck on the police chief. Perhaps you will prove smarter." 

"W-what do you want?" the mayor near-shrieked, squirming underneath the powerful attacker who held him by the shoulder, pinning him to the floor. In the distance, the rumbling of a truck could be heard barging through town towards the mountains.   
"Information," the figure hissed in a slight British accent.   
"On-on what?" the mayor squirmed again desperately.   
"On those trucks," the shadow spoke again.   
The mayor wiggled again, futilely twisting his neck back and forth, "I-I don't know anything about them!" he exclaimed. He was never a convincing liar. The dusky figure swiftly raised the blade and jammed it into the mayor's left shoulder. The mayor let out a deep yelp and the figure slammed his hand over his face to silence him.   
"I know you don't want to die," said the sibilant voice emanating from the figure, who still held the blade in place, the other hand clasped over the mayor's mouth. "Where are the trucks going?" Salty tears now streamed down the mayor's cheeks, and he blinked his eyes trying to stop them. The figure slowly twisted the knife just a bit. Letting out a muffled scream, the mayor fidgeted again in a pathetically vain attempt at escape.   
"Where?"   
The mayor's chest heaved, and he tried to speak. The figure moved his hand down off of his mouth and pressed it against his chest to keep him pinned to the floor. The mayor groaned, grasping for the strength to speak. "Th-they're going to the mountains. To the base"   
The shadow pulled the knife from the mayor's shoulder and pressed the dull edge against the mayor's throat. "What base?"   
The mayor coughed, "Granite Hill, it's, it's some government base hidden inside the mountains. D-dug into th-the side of the mountains and stretching all the w-way down underground."   
The figure pulled the knife from his neck, and slammed it into the middle of his chest, cracking his ribcage instantly. The figure stood, and disappeared into the shadows. The mayor convulsed, coughing up blood. Warm streams of his own blood rolled down his cheeks as he gasped for air. The bitter taste nauseated him as he rolled over onto his stomach, groping for the edge of his desk so he could pull himself up. His fine white carpet quickly became stained with a vivid and rich red. The stab wound to the chest had punctured his lung, which collapsed in the next few moments, quietly killing him. His hand drooped down from atop the desk, and came plopping back down onto the floor. 

***

Washington D.C. - The next morning

***

"Congratulations Agent," the mechanical voice droned as the next VR simulation began to load. Slipping slowly back into reality, Agent Andrew Decker slid the pair of VR goggles off his head and set them down on the computer console. He shook his head wearily, and blinked his eyes to adjust to the light in the room. Another agent strolled up to the doorway and knocked on the opened door. Decker turned to the doorway and the other agent spoke, "Colonel wants to see you ASAP. I think he finally has a mission for you." With that, the agent wandered off. Decker stood up and headed for Colonel Reid's office. 

The office was spacious and warm, and Colonel Reid waved him in, setting down a beige file folder and a few pieces of paper onto his already cluttered desk. "I'll cut right to the chase. This is an official mission. Your mission. Last night the police chief and the mayor of a town called Glacier, in Colorado, were murdered. About three miles west of that town is a top secret government installation, the Granite Hill Advanced Aeronautical and Mechanical Research and Development Facility. They've been shipping in various parts to the base in unmarked black eighteen-wheeler trucks with government tags on the license plates. The base is expanding, they're bringing in building supplies, new computer terminals, that kind of thing. The nature of these murders suggest torture was involved. Someone wanted to extract information from these gentlemen. These two men were the only ones in town who knew where these trucks are heading. The base is well camouflaged, you'd never even see the entrance if you didn't know what you were looking for. There are a few outposts in place to make sure nobody follows the trucks up. The killer or killers must have tortured them into spilling the beans about the operation. If that is so, they could slip past these outposts and possibly hijack a truck or break into the facility. The contents of the trucks are quite valuable. Hi-tech computers and such. They've bumped up security in the area outlying the town, but can't place troops within the town without raising some eyebrows. A General from the Army contacted us about an hour ago, and gave us our orders. You're going in to check out the town. Look for anything unusual, keep the general peace, and keep an ear open for news from the facility." 

Decker sighed as Reid rambled on about the mission. Basically it was an elaborate hunt for a needle in a haystack. Hunt down some killer in a little mountain town. That was the mission? Keep the general peace? What fun that sounded like. Decker knew they could have done better than that. He was still a new recruit, but he had extensive training before joining this 'elite operations team' they called FOXHOUND. He knew this new incarnation of FOXHOUND wasn't quite the same thing as it used to be, but he still thought there would be some more action. That's all it boiled down to. The action. The adventure. The thrill of battle and pursuit. Decker wanted all of these things, and his superiors in the CIA recommended FOXHOUND. Hunt down a killer? Suddenly he was being turned into some twisted Sherlock Holmes, investigating some murders in some town. Keep the peace? Might as well slap a badge and a blue suit on him and have him direct traffic. There was something appealing though, something hidden in the background. Obviously there was something going on in Granite Hill that no one wanted to speak of. He wondered what it was all the way over to the private government airstrip they used to ferry agents off on assignment. 

***

Somewhere in the Fox Archipelago, Alaska - One week later

***

Two figures exchanged warm glances as they looked out over the cold Alaskan horizon, the blurry sun setting distantly, mostly blocked from view by the freezing mists which stirred up when the wind began to blow.   
"It's been a while," the younger of the two men said, his breath puffing up and wafting away in front of his nose.   
The second man smiled, "It has."   
Standing in the middle of nowhere, the two figures reminisced for a long time. As the sun disappeared from sight, a campfire kept them warm.   
"So, working on any projects right now?" the older man asked, huddling closer to the fire and rubbing his gloved hands in front of it.   
"A few mercenary jobs down in South America. Just your run-of-the-mill killing terrorists kind of deal," the younger man said, putting his own hands up to the flames as they danced in their bed of wood and stone. "How about you?"   
The older gentleman sighed, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. They discharged me and I didn't even fight back. I'm and old man Snake. Just an old man with nowhere in this new Army to call my own. They closed down FOXHOUND. About time too."  
Snake sighed softly, "Yeah, I heard about that. They also opened it back up again."   
The old former Colonel raised an eyebrow, "When?"   
Snake's lip curled up and he grinned slightly. "About a year ago as a matter of fact. A joint CIA-NSA project this time. They still basically do covert infiltration operations, but on a smaller scale. All their old blunders finally got the attention of the Pentagon. Mainly Big Boss and his multitask operation of running the old FOXHOUND as well as a personal terrorist organization. Some are questioning his 'greatest soldier ever known' qualities."   
Campbell let out a raspy chuckle, "About time they did that too."   
Sitting in the snow, Snake leaned back against his snowmobile and stared up at the dark sky. "Heard from FAST lately?"   
Campbell shook his head, "No, they've back off in the past year. Still haven't found any of you."   
Snake snorted, "They probably never will. Congress only passed the FAST bill to calm everybody down in the Pentagon. Everybody was so afraid Shadow Moses would go public. I can just see the shit sliding down the insides of their pants. I can't believe none of the others haven't blown the lid on it yet."   
Campbell looked over to Snake, "Why haven't you?"   
Snake closed his eyes for a moment, "I don't care to make a big deal about it. Every morning I wake up with nightmares about Metal Gear and Liquid. I just want to forget. God, if I could only forget. I've got a good setup going on right now. My mercenary contacts reach all over most of both hemispheres. I've nothing to worry about. FAST will never find me, if they're even still looking. I've put that all behind me and I never want to turn back. Cowardice or not, I don't care any more." Snake dug in his coat pocket for his pack of cigarettes and lighter.   
"That's not cowardice," Campbell muttered, "that's smart thinking. Poke your head up and FAST will come after you anyway."   
Snake nodded, lighting a cigarette and sticking it between his lips.   
"Have you heard from your friend Emmerich?"  
Snake shook his head, exhaling a puff of smoke. "A few months ago he contacted me, but I haven't heard from him recently. My contacts would have let me know if FAST reported in his death. He's just keeping a low profile and hiding. It's what he always did best anyhow."   
Campbell didn't dare speak of Ocelot or Liquid. He knew FAST wouldn't find them, and he also knew Snake didn't care to speak of either of them. Especially the latter. "If FAST does find out where you are hiding, you can always duck under a cardboard box." The two men laughed heartily as the Alaskan evening froze over into night, hailstorm clouds slowly building overhead. 

***  



	4. Chapter One - Part Two

**Metal Gear: Project Archon **

By Virtual HiT MaN  
hitman@evilemail.com

**Chapter One:** Incipience

Part Two

***

What hell the past week had been for the combat-starved Agent Decker. He arrived in the small town and assumed command over the meager police force, sending them to keep the peace and keep their eyes open for any strange happenings. Meanwhile, he sat in the police station all day, emerging only for food and a breath of fresh air, reading over the files of everybody in the town. Only two dozen had criminal records, and none of them were even felonies. He knew this wasn't some local man who didn't like the mayor and the police chief. He knew command knew that wasn't the case. Decker sat for hours wondering what was really going on. Something big must have been happening in that facility in the mountains. Every few days a couple people from another agency would drop by for a status report. Decker had never seen them before, and they never really did present any clear form of identification. They claimed they were outside consultants. Colonel Reid confirmed this funny story, so he gave them the information they wanted to know and after that they vanished. Only a few more files to go through, then he could take a breather and scope out the town for himself. There had to be something going on: before he left the base they injected him full of nanomachines, issued him a Codec device and personal frequency, and had him pack up a smart-skin skull suit 'just in case.'

***

The dreary and foggy day dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the sun sank down beneath the mountains and the moon pulled itself up into the middle of the sky. Two dark figures stood atop a hill overlooking a barren stretch of road in the middle of a frozen snowfield. A few US Army marked jeeps sat barricading the road and a group of four soldiers stood around, clenching their icy weapons, most likely freezing their asses off. The two figures watched these men wander around on patrol through pairs of binoculars, every once in a while pulling them from their faces to wipe the foggy lenses off with their gloved hands. The thunderheads had begun to build up a little over an hour ago, preparing to release another frosty barrage of snow and hail. Perfect cover. The figures observed a few snow drifts where they could make their approaches from, out of the soldiers' sights. Slowly, the snow began to fall to the ground in light little clumps. One figure slipped his binoculars into a pocket of his combat suit and turned to the other who still scouted ahead. "Liquid," one figure spoke. The second figure let his binoculars rest on his chest and turned, saying, "Ready?" The other figure nodded in confirmation, and with that they dashed down the hill, one going left, the other going right. Leaping gracefully forward into the air, they came sliding behind the snow drifts that surrounded the road on either side. Weaving in and out from drift to drift, they slowly approached the Army jeeps from the sides. The soldiers stood around, oblivious, one smoking a cigarette, the others wiping the frost from their rifles. Quickly and quietly, the two figures leapt out from behind the jeeps and snapped two soldiers' necks, gently setting them down in the snow and removing their rifles from their tight grips. The other two soldiers simply stood and looked around ahead, not hearing a sound. With no warning the shadowy figures synchronously struck them in the bases of their necks with the rifles and sent them to the ground face first. The figures quickly propped the soldiers up against their jeeps in various stages of standing and sitting, and bolted off in the misty snow towards the mountains, dashing down the road, their boots cracking the ice. Never once did either of them slip, the bottoms of their combat boots were specially fitted for treading over icy grounds. A few silent minutes passed as the two man team dashed the rest of the way up to the next Army outpost, this one only feet away from the hidden entrance to the Granite Hill facility. The team slid around behind the snow drifts, and repeated their silent soldier neutralization method once more. One of the men slid into the small security station at the base of the mountain, and pressed a few buttons on the control panel inside. Slowly, the large door to the facility slid open, creaking and groaning as snow flew around it. The man inside the station tapped on a few more buttons, and the door began to close, only partially open in the first place. Both figures stealthily slid underneath the heavy metal door as it slammed shut. They were in. 

***

Solid Snake sat in his warm den at his computer desk, quietly reading a few dossier files on upcoming mercenary jobs he could have a few of his men embark upon. Setting the files down and puffing on a cigarette, he quietly typed in an address and checked his e-mail. Noticing a new message, he clicked the document and opened it up. It was addressed to him from a person named H, the message reading, "I think you know who this is. Close this account immediately it is being monitored. I'm coming to see you, we have things to discuss. - H." Snake raised an eyebrow, and closed the mail program immediately. So, FAST was trying to track his e-mail? Hal was always a reliable source, with information he knew he could trust. He wondered when he would arrive as he tapped the cigarette against the ash tray, a few burning embers drifting down into it. 

***

The warm, palely lit room stretched out vastly ahead of the two men as they slowly crept through rows of supercomputers, each humming monotonously and emitting all kinds of heat, despite the intense system of cooling ducts which pumped cold air into the room round the clock to control the room temperature.   
"This is the information archive," one of the figures whispered as they cautiously stepped from terminal to terminal. "Each supercomputer has its own console for direct data deposit and extraction," the man whispered again in a German accent, setting down a small bag of tools next to one of the terminals. "This is the one," he said, picking up a disk from his pack and sliding it into the terminal's drive. "Each terminal has a ten digit pass code on it which is changed every twenty-four hours," the Germanic figure said, typing in a few numbers and letters.  
"And thanks to our generous benefactor, we have the code for this terminal," the other man said, smiling as the pale glow of the monitor splashed against his face.   
"Here it is," the other man said. "The encrypted documents containing the exercise and construction information on the Metal Gear prototype."   
He copied several encrypted files from the terminal onto his disk. As the last one finished, he slid the disk out and stuffed it into the bag. "Come on, let's get out of here. Each terminal is monitored all day long. They probably already know it is being used. There's a ventilation shaft over there, we can slip into it and find an escape route from there," the German man spoke, grabbing his bag.   
"Good call Hornet," the other man said, following the first towards the vent shaft and pulling out a screwdriver to open it up.

***

Somewhere in the Fox Archipelago, Alaska - One day later

***

Snake greeted his old accomplice warmly, letting him brush the snow off of his jacket and inviting him in to sit by the fire. Hal Emmerich had never been so glad to see a fireplace in his life.   
"Boy Snake, I don't know how you can survive out here," he spoke, shivering and rubbing his hands together. Snake hung Hal's icy jacket on the coat wrack, and sat down on the chair across from him.   
"I've gotten used to it. Hell I don't even need any anti-freezing peptide any more."   
Hal grinned, pulling his heavy bag over and sliding out a laptop. "We've got some action going on," Emmerich said as the white loading screen's light bounced off of his thin glasses. "Did you close that e-mail account?"   
Snake nodded.   
"FAST has been monitoring the net a lot lately. Suddenly there was a surge in their activities. Something's going down."   
Snake hunched over to look at the laptop's screen as Emmerich tapped on a few keys.   
"Did you hear about the Pentagon hacker a while back?"   
Snake nodded, "Yeah. Got linked to you, didn't it?"   
Emmerich's eyes remained fastened to the screen, "Yes, it did. But" he trailed off or a second.   
"But?" Snake looked at him.   
"I didn't pull that job," Emmerich still stared as his laptop. "And there's only one or two other people in the world that could have. So, I dug up some information; some bad information."   
Snake peered at the screen as a report appeared, a man's face profiled on one side.   
"This is Hans Kimmle, a German hacker."   
According to the report he was in his mid-thirties. He had a pale complexion, one of a man who never sees the sunlight very often. His eyes were pale azure, probably suffering after so many years of staring into a glowing monitor. He had thick, scraggly dirty blonde hair, that of a man who never tends to his looks, a man who never needs to go out in public. He was a fearful shut in. Snake could read his personality just from looking at his photograph. He hid behind a computer all of his life, because he was afraid. Snake could see this, because it was what he once saw in Otacon's eyes. Breaking a few electronic laws was no way to prove his bravery, but he did it nonetheless. For profit. To sustain his meager body and to continue his meaningless existence. Snake disdained him already.  
"He's one of the best hackers in the world. He was the one who cracked the Pentagon database and stole that information. He's a former FOXHOUND computer operator as a matter of fact. Code named Cyber Hornet. A few months after he was relieved of duty, he moved out to Germany for a while, but then disappeared somewhere in Russia. He was recruited into a secret Russian army called the Spetsnaz."   
Snake looked up, "Spetsnaz? The Russian GRU's intelligence army, right?"   
Emmerich nodded his head, "Even after the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War, Russia maintained their secret intelligence organization and placed it under the GRU's authority. The number of men operating within the Spetsnaz is still a mystery. Their leader is a Colonel Sergei Gurlukovich, a hardened war veteran. He's apparently trying to re-invent Russia, bring the USSR back and put it in power."   
Snake rubbed his chin, quickly falling into an endless void of fragmented memories, "Gurlukovich? I've heard that name before" 

"Shadow Moses Island," Emmerich derailed Snake's train of thought. "Gurlukovich's Spetsnaz were allied with Liquid and his crew. They gave Liquid that Hind D gunship and most of the weapons they used as a down payment for the delivery of the new nuclear weapon Rivermore National Labs created. All of their communications data was stored in the computers they used. After I hacked into their systems, I made a copy of all the data on the machines using a few disks I had left over from my old lab."  
Snake closed his eyes, "You think Liquid and Ocelot, or the Spetsnaz, have something to do with that hacking?"   
Emmerich shook his head, "There's more. A couple of people got murdered in a town in Colorado, not far from a government installation built within a mountain. I didn't think much of it when it came up while I was browsing around a few secure lines on the net, but I took notice to it when it came up again a few times a bit later. They sent a FOXHOUND operative down there, and FAST has been monitoring that town and that base with very keen eyes. Not many people know of this, but just a few hours ago there was a break-in at the facility. Some very sensitive data was stolen, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Very important data from what I can tell. Professional job. I'm sure this has something to do with Spetsnaz and Kimmle. FAST has been going nuts over the past ten hours. Liquid and Ocelot must be involved as well."   
Snake shook his head. "Great," he sighed, "find out more about this base. What's in it? What could be there that they would want to steal?"   
Emmerich nodded, "I've been looking for a while but none of my sources have turned up anything yet. All we can do is wait." 

***

Location Unknown: Somewhere in Nevada

***

"RNL employee ID retinal scan confirmed. You are cleared to enter." A man removed his face from the retinal scanner, picked up his briefcase, and stepped through the doorway as the metal door retracted into the wall. Through the bars of a small ventilation shaft, the man could be seen walking down a long sterile looking hallway before the door shut swiftly behind him. Crawling further down the ventilation duct and hanging a left where the duct split, the man could be viewed holding up a personal area network card in front of another metal door. The door slid open, and the man stepped through, placing the card in his pocket. After wiggling out of the duct system, crawling into a small maintenance access tunnel, and again peeking out from a small vent opening, the man could be seen descending a set of stairs and bearing left down another hallway. Climbing down a ladder within the maintenance tunnel and peering through the one way mirrored window in the tunnel's access door, the man could be witnessed strolling into a small conference room and setting his briefcase down at the foot of the table, the door to the room clicking shut behind him. Again venturing into the vast network of cooling and heating ducts would lead to the conference room where the man pulled a few notes out of his briefcase and passed them to a pair of gentlemen already within the room. The secret operative hidden within the ventilation shaft silently spied on their conversation with a tiny directional microphone. 

Looking down at a small report and a few graphs, a husky gentleman in a smoky gray suit chortled, "Well, everything seems to be in order. All VR testing results have come back and they're all successful trials."   
The man who had been spied on during his entrance to the conference room added, "Yes everything checks out. We can continue to phase two at any time."   
"That dreadful business on Shadow Moses really set this project back a while," the husky man sighed.   
"Yes well we won't be making the same mistakes twice. The government did a damn good job of covering up the incident. We could have run into a lot of trouble from the UN."   
A third man wearing a black suit who sat at the far end of the table smiled, "Very good gentlemen. I'll take these reports down to communications immediately and have them sent out as soon as possible. Ah, I'll need the data disk as well Jenkins."  
Jenkins passed the disk to the husky man in the gray suit who sat at the middle of the table, and he passed it to the man in the black suit, who immediately pocketed the disk for safe keeping and gathered all of the files in a manila folder. "Congratulations. Jenkins, you can have your team leaders relay the message that all the engineers and scientists can have a week off. After that, we will most likely start working on the automated assembly line and begin mass production."   
The three men exchanged smiles and handshakes before leaving the conference room. The hidden fourth-party switched off his directional microphone, and pressed his hand to his ear, contacting his commanding officer with his Codec device. 

"This is Falcon, do you read me?" The mysterious figure within the ventilation shaft spoke into his Codec.  
"I read you Falcon, what do you have to report?" a heavy Russian accented voice responded.   
"It's just as you said, they've completed the device and are ready for mass production," Falcon reported.  
"Very good then," the Russian voice said approvingly. "How is security?"   
"Tight," Falcon quickly responded. "Retinal scans, PAN cards, access codes."  
"Can you handle it?" the Russian voice questioned.  
"I think so. The access tunnels seem to stretch all around the base. They're probably installing new devices and laying fiber-optics year-round. I shouldn't have much trouble disabling the security from there."  
"Alright. Disable their security grid, I'll have a helicopter standing by. Contact me when you are ready."   
"Copy. Falcon out."  
Terminating the connection, the enigmatic man known as Falcon crawled out of the heating duct and began to explore the access tunnel system, navigating his way around with his unlicensed Soliton radar device and following the marked fiber optic wiring along the wall.

***  



End file.
